The Kringle Girls - Collection (7 page)

Shit.
He had to get away from her.

But then she shocked the hell out of him as she turned
around, lightly tracing the snowflakes where they rested above the delicate
curve of her breasts. Instead of backing away, retreating into their usual cool
business relationship, she stepped forward, leaned up, and pressed a kiss to
the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you, Rafe. It’s lovely.”

Rafe didn’t even realize that his hands had come up to
grip her arms until Ivy froze, startled eyes snapping up to meet his. The
simple touch of those satin lips had every molecule in Rafe’s body clamoring
for more, screaming
MINE.
He intended to let her go, he really did.
Instead, he pulled her closer, the soft skin of her arms like warm silk under
his stroking hands.

I have to taste her. Just once.
The words
sounded reasonable in his mind, and he lowered his head, but she turned her
head at the last second, leaving his lips to brush across a smooth cheek.

“Rafe…” Ivy’s voice was wary, and Rafe tensed, waiting
for her to push him away, slap him, or even protest. Nothing. She just stood
there, tense, waiting for his next move, and the tiniest seed of suspicion took
root in Rafe’s gut. But he didn’t have enough blood in his brain to fully
examine it, because most of the blood in his body was currently surging to his
dick, urging him to press his hips to hers to assuage the ache.

It would feel so good.

Rafe kept the urge in check – he didn’t want to scare
her away. Instead, he kept a safe distance of a few inches between them, but
leaned in to nuzzle the soft skin under her jaw, eliciting a tiny gasp from
Ivy. She didn’t pull back, but gripped the front of his jacket, as though to
anchor herself. Encouraged, Rafe pressed soft kisses down her throat, finding a
delicious spot at the base that really needed a gentle scrape of teeth followed
by a soothing lick. She tasted as glorious as he thought she would, and his
head was filled with the tiny, sexy noises she was trying to hold in, the rush
of his own blood, and bells.

“Rafe…Rafe, let me go.” Abruptly Ivy pushed at his
shoulders, and Rafe suppressed a growl as she pulled back, reaching across the
desk. Jingle bells still pealed loudly, and it took a second for Rafe to
realize that they weren’t in his head. He glanced at the phone, which was
silent, but Ivy was reaching for a large snowglobe that blinked and swirled.

Ivy looked apologetic…and a little relieved.

“I’m sorry, I have to take this. It’s probably my
mother.”

That’s right. Magic. Santa. Christmas. I’m an
idiot.
Feeling tense, horny, and completely unsatisfied on every level,
Rafe nodded curtly and started for the door.

“I’ll be out in a few minutes, I promise.” She turned
away, and the mood was broken.

Shit.
For a heart-stopping moment, Rafe had
been ready to do what he’d been trying to avoid all year – seduce his business
partner. At least she didn’t parade a boyfriend around. That would be worse.
Rafe seethed at the idea of some Wall Street pretty boy or hardworking,
wholesome muscle head worshiping at the feet of his snow fairy, kissing and
touching her, making her laugh, making her
come
. Though he hadn’t tested
her plump little tits with his hands, didn’t know what color her nipples were,
they were
his,
as was every creamy inch of her body and the sweet, soft
pussy between her legs.

Was she bare or was she covered in pretty platinum
curls?

Rafe was going to find out, and if that meant
curtailing some of his more demanding sexual fantasies, so be it. He would be
gentle and careful and respectful if it killed him. Now that he’d tasted her,
simply finding someone else wasn’t going to be an option.

Fuck it. I need a drink.
And Rafe stepped out
into the office party chaos, shutting the door behind him.

IVY BREATHED A SIGH of as the door closed. The sexual
tension in the air was thick and cloying, and she hadn’t been able to breathe,
much less think with Rafe’s mouth on her skin, as hot and incredible as she’d
always imagined. Her pussy was damp and aching, and the feeling of him so
close, but so far away was maddening, and
scary.
She felt guilty at the
wave of relief that flooded her when the snowglobe jingled – another minute and
he would have realized that she was rapidly reaching a point where she wasn’t going
to stop him no matter what he did.

How far would he go?

She banished the enticing thought – something to worry
about later – and passed a hand over the swirling snowglobe. Immediately, a
bright face with sharp features and pointy ears filled the glass.

“Glitzy! You know you’re not supposed to play with the
snowglobe. Mom’s going to kill you.”

The elf ignored her, hopping up and down in
excitement. Elves were easily excited.

“It’s a mission!” she squeaked, “Happy Christmas,
Ivy!”

“Merry Christmas to you, too. I just talked to Merry
an hour ago. Everything’s fine, so what’s up?”

The elf looked around, eyes narrowing.

“Spies
everywhere
, Miss Ivy. Must be careful.”

Abruptly, she disappeared, and then
POP!

The little elf appeared on top of Ivy’s desk, her eyes
gleaming at the sight of Ivy’s dress.

“Pretty pretty!” Her sharp eyes honed in on the
snowflake necklace. “Pretty sparklies from your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend, Glitzy.” Ivy avoided the
knowing grin and started straightening papers that didn’t need straightening.

“That is why I’m here! Mrs. Claus is plotting!”

Ivy froze. Her mother, though sweet and magical and
wonderful and all the usual jolly clichés, could also be shrewd and ruthless
when she got an idea in her head.

“Mrs. Claus is thinking it’s time her girls were
settled. She wants Kringle-babies.”

Ivy tried not to groan at the triumphant piece of
gossip, and kept her cool with monumental effort.

“And exactly
how
does she plan to match us all
up?”

“She is
scheming.
Miss Holly has already been
tricked.”

“Holly? I don’t believe it.” Holly was the sister who
stayed the farthest from the family business, and tried to lead as normal a
life as possible. But Glitzy was nodding emphatically.

“She is bringing a
man
to the feast tomorrow.
And his little boy.”

Ivy shook her head in disbelief. Her mother would have
made a great military strategist. There was also a prickle of jealousy. She’d
never had anyone to bring home for the feast.

“So what does Mom have in store for me?”

Glitzy seemed to struggle with herself, and Ivy
sighed. Elves were obsessively loyal to the Kringles, and being torn between
them was probably highly stressful for the little creature. She reached into
her desk and pulled out a bag of emergency gumdrops, which Glitzy dove into,
grateful. The sugar immediately calmed her down.

“Beware the mistletoe.” The warning was issued in
grave tones.

“That’s it?” Ivy raised a skeptical eyebrow, “I
already know that. There’s no mistletoe here. I made sure.”

“I can’t say anything more.” The elf looked
distressed, and Ivy patted her soothingly on the head.

“It’s okay. Don’t worry, Glitzy, and thank you for the
warning, but it really isn’t necessary. I know better than to step into a
doorway without looking up first.”

Glitzy looked relieved.

“Why don’t you head home and join the party? I know
Merry put together something really fun for all of you after all your hard
work.”

“We are filling the catapult with candy snow!”

“Nice. Have a bite for me.” She kissed the elf on the
cheek, and with a wave and another
POP!
Glitzy was gone, taking the last
of the gumdrops with her.

Beware the mistletoe, indeed.
Ivy felt a
prickle of unease. Despite her careful plans, the thought of the plant always
left her uneasy. It was a closely guarded family secret, but all of the Kringle
girls shared the same magical…allergy…to the festive sprig. When caught under
the mistletoe, no Kringle girl could step away or defy a direct order from the
person who caught her until she’d been kissed on the lips. As teenagers, the
sisters routinely used the magical irritation to cause trouble for each other
on the rare dates they managed to score – especially Noelle – but made sure to
intervene before things got out of hand or the secret was discovered. It had
been years since Ivy had been trapped, but she remembered the helpless feeling
quite well – not fun.

The sounds of the party filtered in, and Ivy suddenly
laughed, shaking off the grim mood brought on by anxiety over Rafe and Glitzy’s
cryptic message. It was Christmas Eve, and she’d done a kickass job this year.
It was time to celebrate. She straightened her dress, smoothed her hair, and
stepped out into the noisy office.

RAFE KNEW THE MINUTE Ivy joined the party. Even if her
glittery green dress and that distinctive white-blond hair didn’t immediately
draw the eye, there was an elegance about her that set her apart. He ignored
the chatter of the half-drunk Head of Accounting he’d been talking to as he
tracked her progress across the room, nearly snarling as Aubern,
the weasely
prick
, brought her a drink and tried to coax her to the dance floor.

Touch her and die, man.
The thought swirled in
his head, and Rafe clutched the icy glass in his hand. After the surprisingly
erotic moment in Ivy’s office, Rafe had switched from eggnog to scotch, feeling
the need for something stronger. Unfortunately, he had no urge to get drunk and
forget his problems. He eyed the little snowflakes winking on Ivy’s chest and
had a notion that forgetting was not going to be one of his options.

He watched, brooding, as Ivy flitted from group to
group, wishing coworkers a Merry Christmas, clinking glasses and shaking hands,
looking like a fucking fairy come to life. All she needed were the wings and a
magic wand.

Rafe tensed as Gary Stans beelined toward Ivy.
Competitive and obnoxious, Stans was smart as a whip and great with numbers,
but a Class A asshole most of the time, mistaking moderate good looks for charm
and personality. The women in the office had gotten very good at leaving
whatever room he was entering. Stans toed the line so closely that Rafe had
considered firing him, but with the chaos of the last few weeks, couldn’t
afford to be a man down.

His eyes narrowed as Stans took Ivy’s drink, set it
down, and started crowding her toward the dance floor. She was clearly amused,
but a little uncomfortable, placing a hand on his
fucking
chest to hold
him off. No one noticed them in the crowd of partygoers.

Except Rafe.

Shit.

He was already moving when he saw Ivy
stop short
as though pulled by some unseen force. Stans was grinning and pointing upward.
Above them was a makeshift sprig of poorly tied mistletoe. The horror on Ivy’s
face would have been almost comical if Rafe had sense that she was faking it.
Instead, all he felt was anxiety and rage at Stans for putting her in such an
awkward position in front of her coworkers.

Rafe pushed through the crowd, unable to hear Stans’
atrocious attempts to flirt, but getting a clear view as the man slid a hand
around Ivy’s waist and pulled her tight against him. Though she was stiff and
unhappy, Ivy permitted the contact, and didn’t pull back. Stans took that for
encouragement. Rafe took it as a sign that Stans was about to lose a limb.

“Come on, princess, kiss me like you mean it.” The
words oozed from Stans lips and Rafe was sure this was the moment Ivy was going
to knee him in the balls or stomp his foot with one of those killer stilettos,
but instead she flung her arms around Stans’ neck and kissed the hell out of
him.

WHAT THE FUCK?!?

Rafe saw red, a haze of fury nearly blinding him for a
moment. He blinked to clear it, but the image was seared into his brain – cool
and collected Ivy kissing that jerkoff like she was planning to pull him to the
ground and have her way with him on the dance floor. Stans’ tongue was busily
exploring Ivy’s mouth while his hands slid down to squeeze her ass.

Rafe didn’t think. He didn’t consider or analyze or
debate. He just ignored the whoops and catcalls from his tipsy employees and
grimly accepted that he would relish firing the fucking bastard that touched
his woman. With one swift move, he grabbed Ivy around the waist, ripped her
from Stans’ grip, and propelled her toward his office.

“Hey, man, get your own girl!” The words and tone
grated.

Oh yeah, he was so fired.
Stans would be lucky
if Rafe didn’t punch him in the mouth a few dozen times for good measure.

Right now, however, Rafe didn’t care what happened to
Stans. He had a bigger problem – a blonde fairy woman who was currently looking
at him with a mixture of fear, relief, frustration, and gratitude. He shoved
her into his office, locking the door behind them. In the low light, she looked
uncharacteristically mussed – her dress was a little crooked, her lips swollen,
her hair slightly tousled. She looked like a woman who had been well and
thoroughly kissed.

And that pissed him off.

Because it wasn’t me.
Fuck.

IVY WAS RELIEVED AND furious. It was an interesting
combination. She was still shivering in revulsion at the magically forced kiss
she’d pressed on Gary Stans – everything inside her had been dying to pull away
from his groping hands, his intruding tongue, and the rude press of his cock
against her stomach, but she’d been trapped, compelled by the fucking magical
plant.

If that’s what passion is like, I think I’ll pass
.
The thought flitted through her head that her almost innocent moment with Rafe
earlier in the evening had been a gazillion times more erotic than Stans’ hands
on her ass.